


everything probably seems outta place

by obfonteri (aspiringenjolras)



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Dynamics, Gen, Heart-to-Heart, I just like to write Rocket suffering, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), this is NOT a fix it fic I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 00:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14485185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspiringenjolras/pseuds/obfonteri
Summary: Watching Groot die seems to be a trend these days. Honestly, Rocket's really fucking sick of it. But he's not the only one who's lost people.Alternatively titled: Rocket and Tony should've interacted in Infinity War and I'm bitter about it.INFINITY WAR SPOILERS! Do not read if you haven't seen it!





	everything probably seems outta place

**Author's Note:**

> Infinity War messed me up so here I am.
> 
> Rubberband Man is a bop, though.

Rocket didn’t like how well Quill knew him. When he was travelling on his own— and even when he was travelling just with Groot— he never had to worry about anyone exposing his true feelings about anything. He liked to regard himself as layered, mysterious, impossible to read. And Groot didn’t say much, literally, but even when he did, he could never be malicious. At least not toward Rocket, not intentionally.

Groot was really too good for him. But they worked as a team well, and if Rocket had to put a label on it, they might be best friends.

Rocket had always hated labels.

Meeting the Guardians changed everything for him. He found a family, but lost Groot. And he never would tell anyone this, but it fucked him up. Bad.

Except Quill knew. And Rocket resented him for that.

When that twig he’d grown in a pot started moving— _dancing_ , even, Rocket felt more joy than he’d ever felt in his life. More than when he escaped from Halfworld. More than the first time he flew a spaceship and felt truly free. But then Groot didn’t remember anything. Rocket realized he wasn’t getting his friend back. Ever. And he had to mourn all over again. But eventually, he came to accept it. There was still a baby Flora Colossus to be cared for. And he’d be damned if he was going to let that stupid little tree grow up to like one of the other losers on their ship more than him.

Raising Groot gave Rocket the purpose he needed to keep pushing forward, to put up with the team, and to stay alive. That was another thing he wouldn’t admit, and another thing Quill knew.

Still, if he thought losing your oldest friend was bad, he had no idea what was to come. Yondu was never someone Rocket expected to like. And honestly, even years later, he still wasn’t sure if he ever did _like_ the Ravager. Yondu was mean and grumpy and everything that Rocket also hated about himself. But in whatever slow journey of self-love knowing the Guardians had set him on, Rocket embraced the parts of himself he saw in Yondu. It happened all too late, of course, and the man’s death took a heavy toll on him. But while Groot’s death left him feeling empty, Yondu’s was a reminder of the things he had to live for.

Self-sacrifice. Familial love. Acceptance. And forgiveness, for all his wrongdoings.

On the bad days, it was the only thing that kept him from just opening the airlock and letting himself be sucked out into space.

He’d only tried, one time. It was about two months later. Kraglin had decided to part ways with the Guardians and go his own direction, which meant they needed to go back to Berhert and retrieve the Milano. On the way there, his anxiety about returning to the planet was too much to handle. He stumbled to the little compartment, shaking the whole time as his paw inched toward the release button. But then Quill was there, and Rocket couldn’t even hear what he was saying, but the distraught, pleading, look on his face was enough. He dropped to the floor, exhausted from crying, and Quill opened the airlock and pulled him back into the ship. Rocket didn’t have the energy to resist. He didn’t want to talk about it, but Quill knew that.

“C’mon, man. We need you. Someone’s gotta fix the ship.”

If that was supposed to help, it didn’t. But Rocket wasn’t going to argue. “Fine. But we’re doing it my way.” Quill just nodded. And that’s when Rocket started considering himself the Captain, even if he was the only one who thought that.

And as time passed, Rocket settled into his life. Four years of missions and jobs, but nothing as intense as saving the universe. He knew that somewhere out there was Thanos. But they had all made a promise to not worry about him until they had to. And Rocket didn’t. He forced himself to focus on raising Groot, who was growing up fast, and put the rest of his energy into his gadgets and inventions. Their group dynamic shifted too; Quill and Gamora got over themselves and admitted their feelings to each other, Mantis found her place in the family, Groot hit the tree version of puberty. Drax was still the same old Drax, though his need for vengeance festered. And Rocket? He tried to be nicer. Most of the time, it didn’t work. It just wasn’t him. But every so often, a compliment would escape, or his grunted “good morning” would come out a little more genuine than usual, and the pleased reactions from whoever his words were directed at were worth the effort. If he had learned anything from Yondu, it was that the worst thing you could do was wait until it was too late to say how you really feel.

He was working on it.

The distress signal they picked up could’ve been normal. It should’ve been. But those bodies floating in open space reminded him so much of the Ravager mutiny, and nothing good could ever come of that. The Asgardian was alive, though, and he brought his troubles along with him. Still, Rocket couldn’t complain, even when he called him “rabbit” (whatever that meant). Thor was taking him to a place he’d always wanted to go, to get a super cool deadly weapon, which was awesome, and that was the only reason. One hundred percent. Nothing else. At all. He said it until he’d almost convinced himself of the lie.

Trust Quill to call him on it.

“For the record, I know you’re only going with him because it’s where Thanos isn’t,” he said, and Rocket hated him.

“You know, you really shouldn’t talk that way to your Captain, Quill.” The annoyed look on Quill’s face was satisfying enough for Rocket to turn his back and leave before he could change his mind. And if it felt like a mirror of the day Quill left for Ego’s planet, well.

It was easy to bask in Thor’s praise. Easy to flaunt his arrogance to the dejected god, and Groot certainly wouldn’t argue. These days only paid attention to his video game. Honestly, it was probably better that way. The last thing Rocket wanted was to expose him to the real horrors of the galaxy sooner than necessary. But there was still that twinge of guilt, and that hint of fear, that leaving the rest of his team was exactly what he shouldn’t have done.

“What more could I lose?” Thor asked, to no one in particular. And once upon a time, Rocket would’ve asked the same thing of himself. _What the hell, I ain’t got that long a lifespan anyway._

But things were different now. “I could lose a lot,” was the reply he gave. “Me personally, I could lose a lot.”

He held his breath as Thor held open the gateway. He couldn’t bear to watch as Groot reached for the axe. But they both succeeded, and Rocket began to wonder if there was a little glimmer of hope after all.

And when they were suddenly on Terra that was the last thing he had expected to happen, but it wasn’t really saying much. And to the credit of the other humans, they barely gave him or Groot a second look. Even the dude with the metal arm seemed unfazed. It was nice, for once.

And maybe, maybe, maybe… they could win.

He tried to keep telling himself that, even when Thanos got all the stones.

Even when he just— left.

It was only when the others around him began fading to dust that Rocket realized it was over. His eyes locked on Groot and choked on nothing as his friend dissolved into nothing, and he reached out wildly, unable to stop it. “No! No, no, no… Groot… no...”

It was too late.

He ran over to the spot Groot had just been in. There was nothing there. Not a twig, not a leaf. He wanted to grab his gun and start shooting at anyone within range— Thor, for dragging them into the fight, or any of the others just for still being there while Groot was not. But there was no fight left in him at all. He just clung to the grass, claws digging into the torn up ground, and cried. He didn’t notice anyone else’s reactions to their fallen friends. Maybe they just didn’t care. Maybe they did. It didn’t matter to Rocket.

But eventually, he heard Thor’s voice, and felt a hand on his back, and he didn’t even flinch because it was so fucking familiar, he could’ve laughed. He was going backwards.

No. He wasn’t letting that happen. Not this time. Rocket forced himself to stand and face Thor, who was looking back at him with concern.

“Like losing a brother,” Thor remarked, and Rocket could only laugh harshly.

“Multiple times and all,” he said. Thor just nodded.

“We should find your friends,” he said. “They may be on Titan. We should check there first.”

And so they went, the two of them alone. The few survivors on Earth stayed together there. The planet was deserted, or so it seemed. But then—

“Hey! Nebula!” Rocket ran towards the daughter of Thanos, who was standing alone. She turned to look at him, and her empty gaze caused Rocket’s heart to drop. “No— where are they— where are they?” He jumped at her, teeth gnashing together, but she barely reacted. He turned, and saw another man sitting on the ground, someone he hadn’t noticed before. “You! In the suit! Where’s Quill?” His voice shook. “Quill, Drax, Mantis, Gamora—”

“Gamota is dead.” That was Nebula again, and Rocket understood the emptiness now. “And the others are too.”

“How?” Rocket’s voice was gravelly. He rounded on Nebula again, and at the same time Thor came running past him to the man on the ground.

“Stark? Stark!”

Rocket just shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “Thanos got the soul stone,” Nebula said. “And he killed Gamota for it.” Rocket felt sick, and started to ask about the others, but she just kept talking. “The others are just gone. Along with half the universe.” She didn’t look at Rocket, and he didn’t blame her. “I need to leave.”

Rocket clenched his paws. “So they’re dead? All of them?” Nebula just nodded. He swore, and drew his gun. He fired it over and over again at anything around him. The others stared, though he took no notice. He yelled and shot and destroyed until he was too exhausted to continue, and then he laid down in the dust, curling up and shaking as violently as his previous actions. He had no sense of how long he stayed there, and he didn’t care. It was only once his breathing had slowed did he pick his head up and look around. Nebula had disappeared, unsurprisingly. “Thor had wandered off too— leaving only the other man, who had some sort of metal armour partially covering him. He was staring at Rocket, a look of amusement on his face.

“What.” Rocket snarled. “What’re you looking at?”

The man shrugged. “Wondering why I’m not surprised by a talking raccoon,” he said. Rocket didn’t have the energy to make a comeback. He just stood, walking back over to the man.

“You’re hurt,” Rocket remarked.

“I’m fine. These were your friends?” The man shifted, and stood up.

“Yeah.” Rocket watched as the man pressed something on his chest, and the metal melted off of him. He nodded, impressed. “Nice tech.”

The man shrugged. “Thanks.” He sat back down. “Tony Stark.” He started to hold out a hand, then drew it back, as if he wasn’t sure shaking hands was appropriate. Rocket smirked and thumped his chest twice, a gesture he had picked up from the Ravagers. “Rocket.” Stark hesitated, and repeated the movement.

“Your friends— they were brave.” He glanced to the side at something Rocket couldn’t see. “We almost had him.”

“Let me guess,” Rocket said dryly. “Quill ruined it.”

Stark raised his eyebrows. “How did you know?”

Rocket couldn’t bring himself to smile at that. “I knew him well. Almost as well as he knew me.”

Stark leaned back and heaved a sigh. Rocket felt that. He really did. “Sounds familiar,” the man said after a minute.

Rocket contemplated that, closing his eyes as he swiped a paw over his ears once, twice, three times. “You lost people,” he said after a minute. “Here?”

Stark nodded. “Yes,” he said quietly. “Not— not who I was talking about. He’s… I don’t even know. But someone else, yes.” Rocket watched him closely. He— well, Rocket could see something very familiar in that hollow gaze. His whiskers twitched.

“Come on,” Rocket said, and turned his back. “If we’re gonna be here a while, we might as well make a shelter.”

He listened as the man behind him stood up, groaning. “Why us? Why not Thor, or the cyborg chick?” Rocket crossed his arms, and something told him he wasn’t saying anything Stark hadn’t heard before.

“Because that’s what we do.”

The sound of footsteps behind him, following, was all the confirmation he needed.

It didn’t actually take long to construct something basic. The ruins on the abandoned planet were old and crumbling, but they made it work, and with minimal conversation. It would provide shelter, a shield from the chill threatening to sweep over the surface. “Tomorrow, I can fix the ship they came on,” Rocket said. “So we can leave.” Not that he knew where they would go. Without the other Guardians, he felt lost. He hadn’t felt like that in years.

“Was it just you and Thor, wherever you were?” Stark set down his glove and returned to sitting in the dirt, leaning up against the rock face. Rocket frowned and went to sit across from him.

“No, there were... lots of others. Half of them vanished too. Including—” his voice caught in his throat. “My best friend.” Why he felt like using the label now, he wasn’t sure. It just felt— important. “Sort of. Whatever. It ain’t important.”

He wasn’t expecting to feel the hand on his shoulder, so when he met Stark’s eyes, looking at him seriously, it was a surprise. But he didn’t pull away. “Sometimes it’s better to talk about it,” Stark said. “Not saying you have to. But you know, if you want. I’ll listen.”

Rocket thought about that. “Would you? Talk?”

The look Stark gave him might’ve been funny, in another context. “God, no.” He shook his head and laughed, though it sounded painfully forced.

Rocket scoffed. “You’re a terrible motivator.”

“Not supposed to be motivational,” Stark quipped.

“Then what the fuck you trying to do?” Rocket rolled his eyes.

“Telling you about myself, so you might learn from it.”

“And what should I be learning?”

“That we aren’t always right.”

Rocket furrowed his brow. “What—”

They were interrupted by Thor entering the shelter. “Get some sleep, my companions,” Thor said. “Tomorrow we have work to do.”

Rocket wasn’t ready to sleep yet. His mind was racing still, and once he allowed himself a moment alone with just his thoughts, all the recent events came flooding back to him. But as soon as he closed his eyes exhaustion overtook him.

He didn’t dream.

The next morning, the only other person in the shelter was Stark. He was sitting upright, fiddling with his tattered clothing. Rocket smoothed down his fur, running a paw over his ears and looked at the man sleepily. Stark noticed the movement and gave him and gave him a small nod of acknowledgement. Rocket returned the gesture.

“You’re one of those Avengers,” he said after a minute.

“And you’re— what are you guys, exactly?” Stark squinted at Rocket, and he tried not to squirm under his gaze.

“The Guardians of the Galaxy,” he said, with a bitter laugh. “Quill picked that name, not me. Stupid, I know.”

But Stark didn’t laugh. “Not stupid. At least, not any stupider than the Avengers.”

“Yeah,” Rocket grinned slightly. “Avengers is a pretty dumb name.” Stark smiled.

“You met some of the others?” he asked, and Rocket tipped his head to the side. “Who… who made it?”

Rocket shifted awkwardly. “I, uh… I don’t know names, but the blond lady, a few guys in armour… Thor, me, this blond dude with a beard who _wasn’t_ Thor… also a girl in armour—”

“Wait.” Stark held up a hand. “Blond guy with a beard. Tall, big ego?”

Rocket’s nose twitched. “Yeah. Friend of yours?” No answer. “Enemy?” Nothing. “It’s complicated?”

“...Something like that.” Stark picked at the blood stains on his shirt. “He was... like Quill, I guess. Annoying. Has a tendency for doing stupid things. But we know each other, probably too well.”

Rocket nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right. What’s his name?”

“Steve Rogers.” Stark laughed. “Used to go by _Captain America_ , not that it means anything to a dude from space.”

But Rocket was intrigued, and he shuffled over closer to Stark. “Captain, huh? So he’s like the leader of your little group?”

Stark looked at the ground. “Once, I guess, yeah, he was. He took that role. Other people saw him in that role. Because he’s, I dunno, bossy, good at giving orders, people gravitate towards him. He’s…” the man shook his head. “Charismatic.”

“And you aren’t?”

“Oh no, I’m overflowing with charisma, but apparently I’m also unstable and hard to get along with, and no one wants someone like that leading a team of superheroes.” He scoffed. “So it doesn’t matter than I make all their tech, I designed the building they live in, I fund _everything_ , I _do_ everything… but I don’t get to be in charge. Most of the good ideas are mine, too, by the way.” He rested his head against the wall, closing his eyes. “Look where it got me.”

Rocket wasn’t sure what came over him, but he sat down next to the man and patted his leg. “If it makes you feel any better, that’s exactly what working with Quill and the Guardians is… was… like.” He shook his head. “I do everything, like you said. All the tech. All the flying. All the plans. All the dirty work. One time, Quill crashed out ship, then ran off with everyone else while I had to stay behind and fix it! And he was mad at _me!_ ” His gaze dropped. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, it’s just that I—”

“You miss him,” Stark said plainly, and Rocket nodded, pressing a paw to his mouth.

“Yeah.” He sniffed. “I do.”

They were quiet for a few minutes, and Rocket told himself over and over that he wasn’t going to cry, not again, not this time— even as the fur on his cheeks dampened. And when Stark’s hand rested on the top of his head, he didn’t flinch. “I let him die.” Rocket looked at Stark curiously, and the man continued. “This… this kid, who I dragged into this superhero business two years ago. He never should’ve been fighting these sort of battles. I wanted him to just stick to little crimes in his neighborhood, nothing like this. But he always wanted to help more and more. And I let him. Because I thought I could look out for him. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t protect him, not from this. How could I? He just… crumbled. And he was so scared. So, so terrified, and I didn’t even know what to say to comfort him. The last thing he said to me was an apology— _he’s_ sorry? No! I should be the one who’s sorry.” He let out a shaky breath. “He was so young.”

Rocket didn’t know what to say. His heart hurt, not for Stark, but for himself, and...

“You had a friend who vanished on Earth too?” Rocket really wished the man would stop talking, stop asking him things, stop making him _think_ about it because he couldn’t anymore, he just couldn’t, or else he would break, and he had almost managed to forget—

“His name was Groot.” Once Rocket started, the words just kept tumbling out even as he tried to stop them. “He was a stupid sentient talking tree, and he was my best friend, and four years ago I watched him die, and then he grew back! Only he wasn’t the same, he didn’t remember anything, he was just a baby, and I promised to protect him and love him and… and we put him in danger so many times but he was always so _happy_ , I don’t know how he did it. I’ve never been that happy in my whole damn life, but he was just… full of joy. And he always fought for us and even when he wouldn’t stop playing his stupid fucking game he never hesitated to come to our rescue if we needed him… he was too good for any of us. But I let him down. I couldn’t protect him from this. He turned to dust in front of my eyes and I couldn’t stop it and it’s my fault…” he trailed off with a choking sob, and when he glanced at Stark, he saw there were tears in the man’s eyes as well. And recognition.

“Well.” Stark stood, quickly. “Enough talking. We should see if we can help Thor.”

Rocket didn’t move, just called the other man’s name quietly. “Stark.”

“What?” he looked back over his shoulder.

“This fight ain’t over. We couldn’t guard the galaxy, but you can be damn well sure we’ll avenge it.”

They both smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> I've always been really fucked up by the parallels between Rocket and Tony, and Infinity War just cemented that even further. If you enjoyed this, or you cried, or you too have feelings about Rocket and Tony, please let me know below xx


End file.
